


Operation: Knock His Socks Off

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: #jemma simmons has no chill, F/M, Post Season Four, and leo fitz loves her for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: Jemma Simmons is romantic, OK!? Despite what her boyfriend thinks. And she's got a Pinterest board to prove it.Written off of the "I'm the Romantic One" prompt from @memorizingthedigitsofpi's Hiatus Fic-athon.





	Operation: Knock His Socks Off

“You're being ridiculous.” Jemma could feel Daisy's eyes on her from where she was stretched out on a club chair, devouring her dessert of dehydrated strawberries and ice cream right from the packet. “Not everything has to be a competition.”

Looking up from her tablet, Jemma shot her a glare. “It's _not_ a competition.”

“Exactly.” Daisy licked her spoon.  “That's what I'm saying—”

“—A competition implies a standard base level, an initially equal playing field. Fitz— _up until now_ —has had the advantage.”

“First off, that’s not true about competitions and second, _what_?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jemma swiped and pinned a few items to the digital board. “He thinks I'm not romantic, so he doesn’t expect me to be. Clearly, he forgets which of us graduated top of our class—”

“How could he possibly forget that?”

Jemma ignored the comment.

“—All I need is time to prepare, build a spreadsheet, drop a timeline into a calendar. But first, of course, I need to finish my research.” She quickly selected several more items, saving them to her board titled _Operation: Knock His Socks Off_. It was a private board. She didn’t need curious eyes finding her strategy plans. 

“ _Pinterest_?” Daisy leaned forward, an eyebrow raised. “You had me rig up some super sonic, faster-than-a-speeding-bullet internet so you could scour Pinterest for how-tos on _wooing your man_? Couldn't get _Cosmo_ to deliver this far out on the Battlestar?”

Jemma scoffed. 

“Please. As if _Cosmo_ could tell me anything I don’t already know,” she paused for a beat before saucily adding, “or haven’t tried.”

“Ew.” Daisy collapsed back in the chair, tossing her leg back over the armrest.

Just as she was about to respond, Fitz entered the common area, smudges of grease on his jumpsuit. He’d been spending extra time in the engine rooms of the SWORD space station, assisting Mack with upkeep and repairs, as it required nearly constant maintenance. He enjoyed it and judging by the light in his eye, he was having a good day.

It had been nearly six months since the team was tossed into a galaxy far, far, away, but for the most part they were all adapting quite well. And, while she and Fitz were still recovering from the destruction wrought by AIDA, Jemma felt more and more confident they were going to be OK. 

They’d spent several months making their way back to each other, rediscovering the depth of their friendship and strength of their love in quiet, careful moments. Initially they’d been tentative in their touches as they both healed from such deep and vast trauma. Fitz, in particular, had struggled, but after Jemma’s gentle assurances that her love wasn’t predicated on sex, and that she wanted to be with him, regardless, she’d noticed the tension in his shoulders begin to recede. To her relief he had found solace sleeping next to her in their assigned bunk, his resting body gravitating toward her. 

Then, gradually, she caught that familiar teasing glimmer in his eye and a return to his appetite. But it wasn’t until she found him bent over a small motor, his long fingers moving with well-practiced skill and muscle memory, that Jemma felt her own tension begin to crack and float away. Without fully recognizing her actions, she’d hurried to him and pressed a loving kiss to his temple. Startled more by her sudden presence than the gesture, the corner of his mouth had ticked up in a small smile, and it'd nearly brought her to tears. Then he’d reached for her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles along her inner elbow as he brushed his lips along her hairline. With a gentle squeeze and a wink, he’d returned to his tinkering as if nothing were out of the ordinary and Jemma’s heart swelled. 

From that moment on, she’d decided to woo him. While she was certain he knew she loved him, she wanted to surround him with reminders. She never wanted him to question her intent or her commitment. But so much of their relationship in recent months (years, really) had been swept up in dramatic declarations, that Jemma wanted to create happier memories. She wanted to leave him love notes in his packed lunch, draw hearts in the steam left on the shower stalls. She wanted to bake his favorite treats (as best as she could, stranded on this floating metal heap) and make cups of tea and... and...

The trouble was she’d quickly run out of ideas after five minutes of brainstorming. Which led her to creating a Pinterest board and devising a spreadsheet strategy. _For once, she would be the romantic one_.

“What's going on in here?” 

Before he could get any closer, Jemma minimized the application and pulled up a digital lab report. She sent Daisy a look of caution, willing her friend to keep her secret. Doing her best to seem nonchalant, Daisy only shrugged as Fitz moved behind Jemma.

“Your girlfriend is nuts.” 

He snorted before bending down to press a kiss to the crown of Jemma’s head, his hands on either side of her chair. 

“Yeah, but I love her anyway.” 

Tipping her head back, she met his eye and a feeling of warmth zipped through her as she caught his look of affection. 

“I’m going to wash up, then, dinner?" he offered. "Saw a packet of tortillas in the latest stash of rations and thought maybe I’d make those veg tacos you like so much. Extra spicy, of course, to counter the dehydrated-to-rehydrated flavor.” 

“My favorite,” she hummed her agreement, brushing a streak of metallic dust from his cheek. 

He gave her a wink before dropping another sweet kiss to her upturned mouth and heading to their bunk. Once he was out of sight, Jemma turned back to Daisy with a groan and pulled up the Pinterest app. 

“Do you see what I'm up against?”

“Lunatic.” Her friend stabbed the air with her spoon as she enunciated each syllable. 

 

xXx

 

_Roses are red_  
_Violets are blue_ —  
_Unless they’re crossbred,_  
_Then it’s a different hue._

_Dearest sleepyhead,—  
I love you. _

__

__

__

 

__

Tucking her little poem under the laces of Fitz’s trainers, Jemma smiled rather smugly. She’d show him just how romantic she could be. Then, placing his shoes back next to the doorway, she readied for the work day ahead. 

__

Her morning went smoothly with very few interruptions or crises, allowing her the afternoon to plan her next attempt to woo: a movie under cozy twinkle lights, in a nest of comfy blankets and cushions. After carefully reviewing her notes and the week’s agenda, she decided to pair the movie with a plate of homemade shortbread and milky tea. 

__

Setting out to gather supplies, Jemma was disappointed but hardly surprised by the lack of proper butter on the space station. Even still, she did her best to make do. After spreading the mixture out onto a cookie sheet and placing the sheet in the oven, she went to investigate the station’s movie collection. 

__

Again, she was met with disappointment. Most of the movies were dusty VHS tapes of black and white movies. While she loved a classic Hollywood flick, these were hardly of the romantic sort. All the same, she settled on a title she’d never seen, but that sounded promising: _Monkey Business._ Fitz would enjoy that, no doubt. 

__

All that was left was to wait for the shortbread to cool, boil water for tea, and gather the blankets and cushions. Oh, and of course, to wait for Fitz to finish in the engine rooms. Rather an important element to her wooing strategy, that. Exhaling uneasily, Jemma did her best to brush aside the overwhelming sensation of butterflies. 

__

It was ridiculous to be nervous— _this was Fitz._ They could quite literally stand in the middle of this room and do not much at all, and it would still be a wonderful evening because they were together. But even still, she wanted to make their date special. They’d never really _dated_ —not like typical couples. They went from rivals to best friends to something more, with little time to pause in between. Jemma wanted to explore this new, more relaxed element of their relationship. She wanted to bake for him, and snog in the supply closet, and hold hands down corridors… Sure, they’d done all that before but this time felt different. It felt… She wanted more of the quiet moments other couples got. She wanted to watch a movie and snuggle with her boyfriend on a lumpy couch under twinkle lights. 

__

While there were no strings of twinkle lights on the base, Jemma had the benefit of _nature_ on her side. They didn’t need synthetic stars when they had the real deal right outside their windows. Pressing a button, she lowered the shield just a crack—enough to create a similar glowing effect to string lights without creating a glare on the movie screen.

__

Twenty minutes later, she’d dragged the spare blankets from their bunk, as well as their bed pillows and a couple extra cushions, into the screening room, arranging them perfectly and hoping to mask any lumps in the decades-old sofa. 

__

Soon, Fitz stumbled into the room, frowning at the note in his hand—the one she’d left taped to the mirror in their bunk.

__

“Jemma? What’s—” he stopped when he looked up. “What’s going on?”

__

“Oh, I thought maybe you’d like to watch a movie?” Her voice cracked and her cheeks felt hot. Why was she blushing? This man had seen her naked countless times and yet she felt more vulnerable now. Scrambling for something else to say, she quickly added, “I made shortbread. And tea.” 

__

“Shortbread?” He raised an eyebrow, interested but skeptical. “In space?”

__

“I calculated for the difference in atmosphere, of course.” 

__

“Of course,” he grinned, taking a biscuit from the offered tray. Jemma was surprised by how nervous she was, watching as he took the first bite. He seemed to enjoy it—she heard the biscuit have what she thought was the appropriate crunch. But then he began to cough, reaching for a nearby cup of tea. “Good. They’re good.”

__

Jemma snatched the remainder of shortbread from his hand and took a bite. The biscuit fell apart on her tongue like chalk. She whined and practically stomped her foot.

__

“Oh, they’re rubbish, aren’t they?”

__

“No, they’re nice.” 

__

“Oh, come off it. You mean these are as good as your mum’s?”

__

“OK, alright, let’s be clear: no biscuit is as good as my mum’s—certainly not when it comes to _shortbread_.” He took another nibble. “But stranded on a space station lightyears from home? These do the trick. Especially if you dunk ‘em in tea.” He grinned as he did just that, snatching another from the plate and letting the hot liquid soak into the biscuit before popping the entire thing in his mouth. 

__

“Such high praise.” She rolled her eyes but acquiesced when he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

__

“Now what’s all this about a movie?” He tipped his head to the pile of blankets and cushions. 

__

Fifteen minutes later, she was cuddled against Fitz’s chest, as the ship staff searched below deck for the stowaway Marx Brothers. Despite feeling more relaxed and at ease than she had all day, Jemma frowned. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from something called _Monkey Business_ , but a static-y film from 1931 wasn’t it. 

__

When she’d said as much, Fitz chuckled, his fingers dancing in lazy loops of infinity on her arm. 

__

“There are _several_ movies called _Monkey Business_ , Jemma. There’s one starring Cary Grant, for example.” 

__

“How do you know so much about this?”

__

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” he scoffed, his breath fluttering her hair. “Went through a phase as a kid where I watched practically every movie with a primate in the title.” 

__

“Your mother must’ve loved that.” Jemma imagined a young Fitz chasing down every possible movie that fit the bill. 

__

“She loathed _Planet of the Apes_ by the time I was through.” 

__

“Ugh, we’re never watching that.” 

__

“It has its merits! But yeah, that’s completely reasonable.” 

__

On screen, Groucho Marx talked in dizzying, quick-witted circles and Fitz’s laughter at his antics rumbled against her cheek. It was a sound she’d missed in recent months. Perhaps, she thought as he idly pressed his lips to her hair, the evening wasn’t a complete disaster. 

__

 

__

xXx

__

 

__

It was three days after the evening of _Monkey Business_ and shortbread before Jemma was able to put the next element on her agenda in motion. Most of the agents on the space station had been called into action after a nearby cluster of satellites had been attacked. Unfortunately, Fitz’s expertise was needed.

__

It was the first time they'd truly been separated since the Framework and Jemma had spent a day and a half on edge, restless and filled with worry about all the things that could possibly go wrong. She hadn’t been able to see him off on the mission, stuck in the sub-level lab running a battery of tests on an alien artifact Coulson had brought back to her after his most recent encounter while patrolling the outskirts of their current galaxy. She didn’t even know Fitz was gone until a technician pressed a hastily scribbled note into her hand.

__

_ I’ll be right back.—Love, Fitz _

__

No doubt those words seemed innocuous to the casual observer, but for Jemma the heavy weight of his promise was very real as she recalled the countless times he’d been ripped from her side… or she from his…

__

And so, to distract herself from traitorous thoughts, she focused on perfecting her homemade pesto aioli all over again, this time with dehydrated and freeze dried ingredients. It wasn’t as delicious as her usual pesto, but after several test batches, it eventually tasted _not terrible_. Of course, proscuitto and fresh mozzarella were even more difficult to come by, stranded in the middle of space, so Jemma did her best to create a different concoction with rehydrated tomatoes and turkey jerky. 

__

The dinner would pair nicely with the playlist of romantic songs Jemma had put together. She planned on slow dancing with Fitz, whether he liked it or not. She was certain she could persuade him to find dancing enjoyable—especially if it it was just the two of them, holding each other close and swaying to the mellow tunes of—

__

The sharp, incessant tone of an emergency alarm sounded through the station, interrupting her thoughts. Just as the coordinating light sensors began to flicker, Daisy rushed into the dining area. Jemma’s stomach bottomed out at the wild, panicked look in her friend’s eye. 

__

“OK, before you freak out—Fitz is alive.” 

__

The knife fell from Jemma’s hand and half a second later, she bolted down the hall.

__

“He wasn’t being foolish or anything else,” Daisy assured, close on her heels. “In fact, he kept muttering about how pissed you’d be and yeah, gotta say, I agree with that. Also it’s kinda freaking me out that you haven’t said a word.” 

__

Jemma rounded into the medical bay, eyes immediately landing on a bedraggled Fitz, an attendant surveying his swollen ankle. There was a gash above his left eye and several bruises mottling his cheek. His hands were bandaged already. 

__

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he offered, more sheepish than anything.

__

“Oh, really?”

__

“And I kept my promise.” 

__

“You _are not_ being sweet right now.” She wasn’t sure what she was going to do first, scream or cry.

__

“Are you sure about that?"

__

“ _Fitz_.” 

__

“Guess I’ll try harder.” He winced as she dabbed disinfectant over his clotting head wound. “OK, OK, Simmons. I call ‘uncle.’ You win.” 

__

Nearby, the medical attendant offered a thorough appraisal of Fitz’s condition, bringing her up to speed. The space station had an entire fleet of medical professionals—actual people that went to medical school and worked in hospitals—but they recognized Jemma’s long-standing position as her team’s go-to doctor and treated her with respect.

__

According to the attendant, Fitz was suffering from superficial chemical burns to his palms, as well as the previously noted head wound, and a moderate sprain of his left ankle. 

__

Daisy ducked into the med bay. 

__

“Did you—” Fitz caught her eye.

__

“Put that weird rock in with the rest of your weird collection? Yes.” 

__

“OK, it’s not a weird rock so much as meteorite, but sure, thanks.”

__

“Meteorite?” Jemma dropped her hands from him. “Did you injure yourself chasing after some stupid space debris?”

__

“No! The stupid space debris fell into my hands… after I got tangled up, trying to repair the external portal of satellite Star Bird 65.” He shifted in the narrow bed. 

__

“There was a bit of an… explosion… as we re-entered the module. Need to investigate that later. Possibly faulty wiring in the chamber door. The port was closed and I had half my suit off so I took the brunt of the—but the _brunt_ wasn’t even as bad as it could be.” He stopped when he caught sight of her expression, before adding, “You’ll be happy to know Star Bird 63, 64, and 66 were less damaged.” 

__

“Honestly, I don’t really care about that, right this very second, Fitz.” 

__

She was too upset to even think about the recovered or mended tech—instead, she was focused on all the possible scenarios in which Fitz _didn’t_ return to her. Tears pricked at her eyes as she focused on bandaging the gash along his brow. 

__

His eyes flicked over her shoulder and a moment later, Jemma heard the doors open and close as Daisy left them alone.

__

“Hey,” he reached for her with a bandaged hand, pulling her to a stop. “I’m fine.”

__

“But what if someday—”

__

“Nah, not gonna happen. I’m far too stubborn.” He spoke with bravado but Jemma knew he worried about the same thing—they both were too well acquainted with how it felt losing the other, even for a relatively brief period. She collapsed against him, her face pressed to his chest.

__

“I’m just so tired of the _danger_ , Fitz.” Frustration flared at the memory of that young, naive girl who convinced her best friend to sign up for a mobile SHIELD unit. If only time travel existed… Well, would they have ever figured out what they meant to each other, otherwise? 

__

“I know,” he gently ran the tips of his fingers through her hair. “We’ll figure it out. Right now, we’ll do our best to stay alive and remind each other about the little things... then when we make it back home, we’ll figure it out.” 

__

She hummed agreement. Images of a cottage in Scotland, of cherub-cheeked babies, and a teaching laboratory flashed through Jemma’s mind. She hoped they got a chance to figure it all out—they deserved a quiet, steady homelife. 

__

Fitz shifted and hissed in discomfort. 

__

“Bloody ankle,” he whinged. “Gonna be limping around this place for _weeks_. As if trekking down these long, multi-level corridors wasn’t terrible enough.”

__

Kissing his cheek, she sat back up. 

__

“You know, I had big plans for tonight.” 

__

“Oh, yeah?” He looked over at her, his interest piqued and his tone laced with suggestion. 

__

“Mmm, made a batch of pesto aioli. Created a new sandwich with rehydrated tomatoes and turkey jerky—”

__

“Blech.” 

__

“Hey! I was working with what I had on hand. Fresh mozzarella isn’t exactly easy to come by out in the middle of space.” She playfully pinched his side and he chuckled. “And then there was going to be dancing.”

__

“So what I’m hearing is my sprained ankle is a godsend.” 

__

“You’re absolutely _terrible_.” It was her turn to laugh as he cupped the back of her head with a bandaged hand, pulling her down for a sweet kiss. 

__

 

__

xXx

__

 

__

While Fitz’s ankle mended, Jemma kept her romancing and wooing minimal: more poetry tucked in his trainers, a heart drawn on the mirror in their bunk, extra desserts at dinner…

__

Then, two weeks after the incident, he was given the OK to switch out the crutches for a walking boot. Embracing his new freedom, Fitz once again spent much of his time assisting Mack while also running diagnostics on the recovered pieces of Star Bird 65.

__

But now that he was more mobile, it was time to put _Operation: Knock His Socks Off_ back into full swing. While elaborate dancing was out of the question, Jemma was certain she could easily convince Fitz to hold her in his arms and sway to the playlist she’d built on the tablet. 

__

Swiping past the tablet’s security page, Jemma stopped. It seemed as if Fitz had logged on—but hadn’t logged out. His personal email was open and she immediately noticed a correspondence chain with Coulson… The subject line caught her interest: _Re:_ _Thanks for the Vibranium!_

__

Fitz hadn’t mentioned using the precious metal in his repairs of the satellites, but it made sense and would allow for a more long-term maintenance of tech throughout the station. She was excited to hear more about it.

__

Jemma didn’t intend to read his email—that would be a breach of trust, of course—but before she could log out of the application, Coulson sent a reply to the chain and the first line of the message caught her immediate attention. It did, after all, contain her name.

__

Barely hesitating, she tapped open the message. Surprise rushed through her as she first skimmed, then read closely… And then read _even closer_ , scrolling back through the entire chain of messages…

__

 

__

~~

__

_ Subject: RE: RE: RE: Thanks for the Vibranium! _

__

_ I’m confident Jemma will say yes.  _

__

~~

__

_ Subject: RE: RE: Thanks for the Vibranium! _

__

_ Jumping the proverbial gun, aren’t we, Sir? I haven’t even asked her, yet. _

__

~~

__

_ Subject: RE: Thanks for the Vibranium! _

__

_ Fitz— _

__

_ Always happy to help. Just remember me when naming your firstborn.  _

__

_ —C _

__

~~

__

_ Subject: Thanks for the Vibranium! _

__

_ Coulson,  _

__

_ Thanks again for reserving the galaxy room for me, next Tuesday—as well as for locating the vibranium scraps for the ring. Jemma will be so pleased, I’m sure of it. Your continued support means everything. _

__

_ Fitz _

__

~~

__

 

__

Jemma gasped. _A ring?_ While not explicit, this exchange had all the hallmarks of a proposal. Panic and questions flooded her mind. Were they ready? Was it too soon after everything they’d dealt with back on Earth?

She loved him— _of course_ she loved him. She wanted to be by his side for the rest of their lives and no official document would change that… But he was going to propose. In the galaxy room, with the panels that retracted to reveal a glass ceiling and a beautiful view of the stars… 

Stars and _space_.

She stopped short, remembering the night so long ago in his bunk, when they’d shared a kiss. It hadn’t been their first, but it had been the start of something more, of something… _magnificent_. Her jaw dropped as she realized the full scope of his intent.  _That cheeky bugger…_

Well, there was only one course of action. She had to beat him to the punch. _But how?_

Before she could form a plan, she heard Fitz scanning his keycard right outside the bunk. Logging out of his email, Jemma returned the tablet to its proper place before going about gathering her shower caddy and robe. 

“Hello!” She chirped, brightly. A little too brightly, if the narrow look he gave her was any indication. She did her best to distract him with a quick kiss before he grew too suspicious. 

__

“Hi,” he replied, eyeing her with suspicion as she dropped back to her feet. “You’re in a good mood.” 

__

“Happy to see you.” She shrugged.

__

“Ah, well, that’s OK, then.” Still in his walking boot, he wobbled to their small shared dresser, emptying his pockets and removing his wristwatch. The easy domesticity of it all warmed Jemma’s heart.

__

“I thought so.” After another quick kiss, she reached for the doorknob. “I’m off to shower.” 

__

“OK. Oh! What’s on tonight’s agenda?” He’d paused in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt.

__

“Eh, nothing really.” She’d save the dancing for a different evening. No, now she would bide her time when it came to out-romancing him. “I thought we could take it easy tonight since you’re still healing.” 

__

He nodded in easy agreement before pulling the tail of his shirt from his trousers. 

__

“Works for me.” 

__

And with that she slipped from the room, biting back a grin. 

__

He wouldn’t know what hit him.

__

 

__

xXx

__

 

__

After taking an extra long, extra hot shower, and brainstorming the best way to _pop the question_ before next Tuesday, Jemma decided she needed to consult Pinterest.

__

Thinking about all the possible keywords and metadata points she could use to populate the best search, she distractedly swiped her keycard and entered the bunk without looking up. 

__

“Have a nice shower?” 

__

“Yes, although, I think I used all of the hot— _What?_ ” Jemma dropped her armful of clothes and toiletries, fully turning to take in the room and Fitz. 

__

The room didn’t look all that different than when she’d left it—the lights were dimmed and Fitz stood at the foot of their bed, having changed into a dark-shirt and bottoms—but the _atmosphere_ definitely felt different. 

__

He flexed his fingers with easy confidence, and Jemma gasped as something glittered in his palm. An engagement ring. 

__

“But… you had a plan. The email said nothing about this!” She gestured wildly as he slowly approached—far steadier on his injured ankle than he’d been earlier that evening. 

__

“You mean the fake email?” He tipped his head to the right, watching her with a hint of amusement. 

__

“ _Fake_?” 

__

“Yup.” He popped the word. "A distraction. Subterfuge." 

__

“So, no proposal under the stars? While we look out into the vastness of space?” Jemma reached out for him, clutching at his t-shirt, forgetting all about wanting to out-romance the most romantic man in her world.

__

“Well, I mean, you know what I always say.” He gave a small shrug, a familiar teasing gleam in his eye. 

__

“What’s that?” Her question came out on a whisper. She had a hunch she knew what he was about to say, but she wanted to hear it, so enraptured by the sweet playfulness of the moment.

__

“Who needs space, when—”

__

She tackled him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, her mouth pressed to his. That her own actions mirrored a moment from long ago was accidental; she was so taken by her absolute love for him that she couldn’t stop herself.

__

Pulling apart, he held the ring up and with a happily overwhelmed laugh, she gave him her hand. It fit perfectly.

__

“The band is vibranium and the stone is, well, it’s polished meteorite.” Fitz scratched at his ear the way he did whenever overly pleased with his creation. “Thought I should put that rock to good use since it fell right into my lap.”

__

The light gray stone was nestled in an intricate setting with vines of vibranium looping up from the shank and around the prongs that were holding the stone in place. It was gorgeous. 

__

“I don’t believe you!”  Dropping back down, she pushed his shoulder and he groaned, feigning injury. “I was trying to woo you—to romance _you_ —and yet you still managed to surprise me!”

__

“Well,” he murmured and wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’m still open to ticking off the rest of your list. That massage sounded particularly nice. And wasn’t there a recipe for a chocolate cake? Who am I to turn down chocolate cake?”

__

She stopped, eyes narrowed. 

__

“You _knew_ about the board? Did Daisy tell?”

__

“Nope.” 

__

“But it was locked!”

__

“Sure,” he nodded, “but if you forget to close out of the app, then…”

__

“Unbelievable. How long have you known?”

__

“ _Roses are red, violets are_ —” He punctuated each word with a soft kiss. 

__

“Ugh.”

__

“No reason to be glum. I say, see _Operation: Knock His Socks Off_ through to the very end. After all, what kind of field agent would you be, abandoning a mission before achieving your goal?”

__

“Oh?” Jemma raised a brow in consideration before tipping her head down to the floor. “You _do_ still have socks on. Suppose I haven't quite knocked ‘em off, yet.”

__

“I have absolute faith in you.”

__

Then, without another word, she caught him in a heated kiss. He held her closer, gently tumbling them back onto the nearby bed. 

__

“Already a rather great start, Agent Simmons.” He winked at her suggestively as she straddled his waist. She couldn’t keep the laughter and joy from bubbling over as he pressed his lips down the column of her throat. With deft ease, he rolled them over.

__

“Fitz?” She whispered, hands framing his face as he rested above her. A hint of apprehension suddenly flickered over his features. “I love you.” 

__

Catching her left hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckle just below her engagement ring. 

__

“And I love you.” 

__

“You know my answer but would you mind terribly if… that is—” she ran her teeth over her lower lip. “Could you ask me, anyway?”

__

He exhaled and she watched any remaining doubt or worry float away. Only his love and happiness reflected back at her.

__

“Jemma, will you marry me?”

__

She reached for him, bringing him closer, certain her cheeks would ache tomorrow from smiling so hard.

__

“Yes. I'd love to.”

__

xXx

__

 

__

“So, how’s the Pinteresting going?” Daisy slid up next to Jemma’s side as she set about making her morning cup of tea. “Holy sh—” 

__

Daisy snatched her hand as she stirred in the powdered milk, sending the spoon clattering to the countertop.

__

“Oh! You were right. No competition,” she quipped, smiling. Her friend’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she took in the new ring. “He wins _every_ time.” 

__

Then, with a squeal Jemma was certain dogs back on Earth could hear, Daisy enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. Soon, the squeals turned to laughter. 

__

“What did I miss?” Fitz asked, sleepily stumbling into the kitchen. Without a fair warning, Daisy barreled into him and Jemma laughed even harder at the look of bewilderment he shot her. 

__

“You know what this means?” Daisy took a step back, beaming at them both. “We need a new Pinterest board!”

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to dilkirani for the beta and the support!
> 
> Disclaimer: #NotAnAd for Pinterest, but hey, it’s a fun app


End file.
